have you ever loved somebody?
by CasMyAssbutt
Summary: Margaery/Sansa & Amy/Rory & Linctavia & Stydia: a girl having her first proper kiss, an old man holding his wife's hand as she passes away, a teen parent losing her child, a man getting married. four different lives, one day.


**prompt:** a girl having her first proper kiss, an old man holding his wife's hand as she passes away, a teen parent losing her child, a man getting married. four different lives, one day. make them connect.

**a/n - **I didn't really connect them but I thought it kind of worked out anyway. Song by BRANDY.

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_Have you ever loved somebody so much_

_It makes you cry_

_Have you ever needed something so bad_

_You can't sleep at night_

_Have you ever tried to find the words_

_But they don't come out right_

_Have you ever, have you ever_

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Winterfell was cold and boring, even when the sun shined and traveling carts decided to stop and try their luck with the locals. King's Landing was breezy and crowded, and though there was more people there than Sansa could count, she had never felt so alone.

But Highgarden is warm and welcoming. Highgarden is fruit covered trees and multicoloured decorations. Highgarden is parades during the day and parties during the night. Highgarden is fun and friendly. Highgarden is—_Margaery_.

"How are you enjoying the water?" Sansa beams at the familiar voice, closes her eyes, lays her head back and groans.

"You do not know how magnificent this is compared to the cold, hard water at Winterfell."

"You still remember the feel of the water?" Sansa rolls her shoulders, kicking herself a little nearer to the edge of the balcony pool. "I do recall you admitting to struggling to remember what your childhood bedroom looks like."

"Yes," Sansa sighs. "The more new memories, the further the old ones seem to drift away."

"Well, make sure you don't forget me."

Sansa laughs and turns around, opening her eyes. "I could nev—" She pauses as she comes face to face with a naked Margaery. The Tyrell Princess grins at her, threading her fingers through the water. Sansa gasps and covers herself with her hands.

"Don't be modest, Sansa." Margaery laughs. "Besides, your breasts were visible to me even walking up." Sansa blushes and has an odd urge to apologise, though Margaery was the one who came to watch her bathe. "Another fun advantage of the water here. Not very concealing." Margaery winks and spreads herself out with a kick. She frowns when Sansa only shrinks into herself more. "Come now, Sansa, we're friends are we not?"

"Yes, of course but—"

"But nothing!" Margaery tuts. "You are like my sister." She grabs Sansa's cheeks and smashes her lips to hers. It's in no way elegant, certainly not a kiss one would expect from a princess. It's wet, long and rough, but Sansa has never had a better kiss. She's had awkward pecks from Joffrey and hard, hungry kisses from Petyr Baelish. But this kiss is _nice_, and she likes that it is that simple. Sansa knows that Margaery only has a brother but, Sansa wouldn't kiss her sister like that.

When Margaery pulls away she smiles. "Now, stop being so silly and modest. I want to show you one of my favourite hiding places today."

Sansa watches as she swims away. She bites her lip and slowly begins to swim after her.

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As a love story begins, across time another is ending.

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"CLARA!" The maid drops everything and runs. She takes the stairs two at a time and practically kicks the door down. She freezes as she reaches her employers. "It's time," he says gravelly.

"Mr. Pond, is there anything I can do?"

He nods, reaching a wrinkly hand out to her. She slips her soft slim fingers into his palm. "You've been so good to us, Clara. We wouldn't have lasted this long without you." Clara smiles and blinks her watery eyes.

"Is she here?"

"Yes, Mrs. Pond." Clara kneels by the bed, wrapping her hands around one of Amy's.

"Good," she whispers. "I just wanted to say that I'll miss you and your many, many books." Clara smiles. "I knew from the moment we bumped into each other and you looked me straight in the eye and yelled at me that we would be great friends."

"Well," Clara blushes, "I was having a bad day."

"Don't feel bad," Amy chuckles, "It's one of the reasons I hired you."

"What were the others?"

"Well, you reminded me of someone I met in a—different life." Amy coughs then harshly sucks air through her teeth. "I never saw her face, but her name was Oswin Oswald, too. She was brave—" Amy's voice lowers even more. "So brave, and so clever." Rory holds her wrinkled hand tighter, and brakes Amy's previously stated no crying rule. "Do you remember, Rory?" He shakily nods. "Asylum—a-an Asylum. We were stuck in a bloody Asylum of Daleks!" Her old throat croaks a laugh. A cough follows it. Clara doesn't hold back her tears. "And you said you loved me more than I loved you. I know I claimed to love you more but I—Rory, _we're the Ponds_." She chokes out another laugh. "We win every fight, but there are two fights neither of us will ever win."

"I love you." His voice cracks against her palm. "So please shut up."

Clara understands that he doesn't want to hear her say it.

Amy smiles, inhales sharply, whispers, "Come along, Pond."

Clara watches them both silenty. Amy tries to smile one last time as Rory cries. Clara understands how much this is breaking him apart. So much so that when the life leaves Amy's eyes and she scurries off to fetch Dr. Miller waiting downstairs, when she comes back Rory is found huddled around his wife with no pulse.

They say it was the grief that killed him. Clara doesn't. She likes to think, instead of him giving up because the pain was too much, that he was—that _they_ were so in love that their hearts simply decided to stop together. It was always all or nothing with the Ponds.

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Clara Oswin Oswald. Copies of the same amazing person sent through time to save the Doctor. No Clara can ever top this one. This Clara saved the Doctor, by being there when his Ponds lost their last battle.

Two fights. Love. And Death. Not even the girl scattered around the Doctor's timeline can blow those away.

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More years into the future, young love is also damning death.

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Lincoln lays her on the bed and quickly grabs a cloth. Octavia shifts uncomfortably as he wets the cloth. Are gun shots supposed to feel _this_ bad?

"I feel like shit."

"You look like—" She glares at him and he grins at her. "You'll be fine. I'll take care of you." He cleans her wound, carefully tearing her clothes off. Octavia wishes this could be a sensual moment but all she feels is agony.

"No, Lincoln, I think it's something else." She groans a little as pushes herself upward. He places a hand to her back, helping her sit up. "My stomach—God, I feel so messed up."

"Well, you _were_ just in a war, Octavia." He sighs, and she knows he's definitely just postponing her lecture about disobeying him and 'jumping into danger like she always does'.

"Yeah, but it's—_Lincoln_!" Her scared yell makes his eyes dart frantically up and down her body looking for the problem. Octavia lets out a shaky breath at the blood coating her fingers. "I'm bleeding! I'm bleeding down— but it's not my— Lincoln!" He moves her coat and stares at her blood soaked pants in horror. "Lincoln, tell me it isn't what I think it is!" Lincoln says nothing and Octavia raises a hand to her mouth.

Lincoln, in a daze, rests his head on her stomach and wraps his arms around her waist as she cries for the baby she didn't get the chance to love. A baby she didn't get the chance to tell how much she wanted. A baby that wouldn't have been sentenced to death for being born. A baby that wouldn't have had to spend its life hiding under the floor. A baby that could've felt like retribution for her crappy life.

A baby she didn't even know she had until it was too late.

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While one family is torn apart, flying back through time, another is just beginning.

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Malia touches up her lipstick in the mirror and turns to Stiles. "You look beautiful." He smiles at her.

"I know," she grins cheekily. "You look good. You smell super nervous though."

Stiles scoffs. "Thanks, Malia. At least I don't have to impress _you_."

"Yes, your future wife _is_ just down the hall." Malia teases.

"Oh, God!" Stiles lets out a shaky breath. "Is anyone else's throat closing in?" Malia groans and slaps him on the back.

"Come on, Stiles! You're getting everything you've ever wanted! I'll be damned if I let you throw it away because of a silly thing like nerves!" Stiles waves his hand and nods his head but his breathing is still erratic. "Don't make me get my boyfriend to beat you up! You know he'll be more than happy to do it." Stiles rolls his eyes at the mention of Isaac but still struggles to breathe. "Oh for—SCOTT!"

"Hey, buddy!" Scott pops up, slapping Stiles's back. "Please don't do this to yourself. If you have a heart attack an isle away from your happy ever after no amount of fangs, claws, not even Kira's sword will stop Lydia from slapping you back to life— trust me, that girl has a _killer_ left hook!"

"I know!" Stiles tries to calm down. He licks his lips, still huffing and puffing, and glances at the door. "Ijustneedsomeair."

He's out the door, the two werewolves shaking their heads behind him. If he does try to flee they can easily hunt him down, but honestly none of them think he will.

Stiles. Married. A husband. With a wife. _Christ_—

His breathing stops altogether when he sees her. The door to her dressing room is slightly open and the small crack leaves him with a breathtaking view. Her hair glows orange and her skin gleams in its pale white glory. The white fabric surrounding her hugs her body perfectly. An actual tear falls down Stiles's cheek as he watches Lydia nervously twirling her ring around her finger. _His_ ring. He knows he has never been this happy except when she said yes after he gave her that ring.

Mr. Stiles Martin. Mrs. Lydia Stilinski. Does it matter which? Because all that matters to him in that moment is the smile on those cherry lips.

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_Have you ever been in love_

_Been in love so bad_

_You'd do anything to make them understand_

_Have you ever had someone steal your heart away_

_You'd give anything to make them feel the same_

_Have you ever searched for words to get you in their heart_

_But you don't know what to say_

_And you don't know where to start_

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End file.
